


we chained our hearts in vain

by windychimes



Category: Bastion
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windychimes/pseuds/windychimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hard when you love people and they don’t love you back, but you get used to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we chained our hearts in vain

It’s hard when you love people and they don’t love you back, but you get used to it.

Nacie was beautiful. Nacie, with her soft curves and her shining smile and her honeycomb-colored hair, Nacie was beautiful. Nacie, who would take your hand in hers, your big, big hand, into her dainty, dark one, and kiss it gently; Nacie, who would laugh so sweetly it was a song; Nacie, who would dance around the room with an invisible partner when the bar was closed for the night and you were the only one there to watch.

Nacie, who lit up a whole room with her very presence and captured the attention of all but only paid attention to you; Nacie, who would whisper your name, your real name, not your title, not ‘Kid,’ not ‘Boy,’ not ‘Hey, you,’ into your ear when she would push you down into a chair and climb into your lap; Nacie, who looked at you with pity and sadness and disappointment and said, _you’re a good man, sugar, but I don’t love you like that._

Nacie, who left you with only a broken barrette as a grave marker.

Nordy was kind. Nordy, with his whisper-quiet voice and his whistled bird songs and never a mean word to leave his lips, Nordy was kind. Nordy, who would mend the broken wings of birds on the brink of death; Nordy, who could name every type of bird that flew overhead and taught you all of them; Nordy, who could never keep his messy mop of brown hair untangled for more than one day.

Nordy, who helped you bandage your wounds after every fight and murmured words of encouragement after every battle; Nordy, who would kiss every scar you had and every scar that you hadn’t yet got; Nordy, who took your hands in his and said through teary eyes, _thank you, but I can’t return your feelings._

Nordy, who left you with only a pile of ash and petrified birds as a grave marker.

Zia is sweet. Zia, with her skin that freckles in the sun and her garden that blooms from love alone and her heart so big it almost bursts from her chest, Zia is sweet. Zia, who helps Rucks set your broken bones and ice your burning muscles; Zia, who keeps her ears perked and her eyes wide and her footsteps soft so she never misses a thing; Zia, who cooks better than anyone you’ve ever met and could ever meet.

Zia, who plays the harp guitar like it was made for her and sings as sweet and bright as the dawn; Zia, who almost kisses you every time she gets drunk and one time did; Zia, who bites her lip and toes the ground and doesn’t look you in the eyes and says, _oh, wow, thank you, but Zulf and I, we’re…_

Zia, who has not yet left you with a grave marker but one day will.

It’s hard when you love people and they don’t love you back, but you get used to it. You’re unlovable, and that’s okay. Maybe someone could find you loveable if they tried hard enough, if you tried hard enough. There are only four of you left in the whole world right now, but maybe there are others out there, maybe more survived the Calamity. There has to be more, you can’t be the only ones left, you can’t be the only ones left. You can’t be alone in the world, unloved, unlovable, unable to share your love. And if you are, if there’s no one out there in the wild blue yonder, if there really is no one else and you’re all alone…

Being alone has never been so scary.


End file.
